


8.23 to Holby

by GinDiva



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 21:04:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11044311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinDiva/pseuds/GinDiva
Summary: Strangers meet on a train, cue drawn out, silly guessing game and general flirty behaviour. Serena's POV.





	8.23 to Holby

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while back but the prolonged absence of the delightful Serena Campbell from our screens has finally made me write it up.

The first time I saw her, I barely saw her at all. Just a glimpse, messy blonde curls near to the doors. The train was crowded, unusually so for this time in the morning, I was mostly concerned that there had been train cancellations earlier likely to impact my return journey, face buried in my phone checking rail service notifications.

The crowd must have cleared a bit at the last station as when I went to get ready to disembark I had a less obstructed view. Her head was bowed, curls hiding her face, she was tall and lean, something about her caught my eye and set her apart from the other commuters. Turning to pick my bag from off my seat, I chanced a curious glance back but she was somewhere out of sight.

The next time I saw her it was a less busy carriage. I was casually observing my fellow commuters, making up stories about the fascinating lives that they lead away from this tin box we travelled together in.  So many of the same faces each day; the game was getting a little mundane now, but then I saw her again. The carriage was less crowded and I was closer to where she stood than before, I was idly picking at a loose thread on the blue and violet seat cover I was sat on, she was leaning against the glass partition near the train doors. Her posture only seemed to elongate her body and made me draw my eyes down the length of her dusky pink trench-coat to the glimpse of thigh and knee poking out from underneath. She was wearing skinny black jeans and black ankle boots but with her figure she could pull off pretty much anything. She shook her head then and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear allowing me to see her features better. I would not have called her beautiful, but she was striking. Tanned skin and a long thin nose, narrow lips pulled into a pinched look of annoyance or anger but her eyes were dark, almost mysterious and I could not help wanting to get an even closer look at them. I don’t know how long I was staring at her for, or why she fascinated me enough to keep my attention but I can’t deny I enjoyed having someone new and different to study for a change.

My gaze was raking down her body once more and back up as I tried to think of what reason she might have for being on the train, when I refocused on her face, she was looking directly at me. Our eyes met for the briefest moment before I turned away, a fierce blush burning my chest and cheeks, sending them deep pink.

The train reached Holby fairly soon after and I had not summoned up the courage to look back in case she caught me staring again but as we pulled into the station I could not stop myself from chancing a look, she had moved again but I could see her this time. She was not looking at me but down, her long fringe covering her eyes but her normal taciturn expression was pulled into a slight smirk. She knew I had been staring at her judging by her smug countenance, seemed to be quite enjoying it though.

She turned her head towards me fleetingly as she stepped off the train, still with that same look of amusement and her eyes were alive and dancing. I felt a thrum of energy flow through me before she swished her hair again and she was gone.

It was two further days before I saw her again; she was stood on the platform waiting for the train to come to a standstill, her eyes scanning through the carriages as it pulled into the station. She bit her lip; an expression of frustration crossed her features before she boarded the train into the carriage in front of mine. I toyed with changing carriages but I could not work out what good reason I had for wanting to do so. Yes I was struck by a different face from the usual humdrum on this train but to actually swap carriages just to watch her, it was bordering on stalking; so I stayed where I was and people watched my usual crowd. Over on the seat opposite mine was the woman conducting a sordid but passionate affair with a driving instructor named Cuthbert and loitering beside the toilet door was Malcolm – a potential serial killer if ever there was one (although in reality he was just a middle aged insurance broker from Shirehampton). Still I could not stop my thoughts drifting to the woman with the messy curls and dark eyes.

It was perhaps this state of distraction that made me nearly miss my stop. I usually like to be one of the first out of the doors, I hate it when I get stuck behind ladies with pushchairs or gaggles of women with nothing better to do than meander around for hours, but today I was one of the last off the train when it reached Holby. It was this lateness that allowed me the opportunity to see her again; she had obviously held back when everyone had disembarked the train and the platform had all but cleared now, there was just myself and her a few paces in front of me. It was then that I finally saw her awkwardness of movement; she was moving slowly ahead of me, leaning quite heavily on a cane and carefully making her way to the gates to exit the station. I was stuck; she was between me and the only exit gates. If I walked past her now, she would know I had seen her limping and leaning on her cane and I got the impression she deliberately avoided people seeing this vulnerability and that is why she hung back. My other option was to walk slowly behind her until she was through the gates which would avoid problem 1 but if she turned and noticed me deliberately hanging back, it would look like pity or worse I was following her like some deranged lunatic.

Eventually she took the decision out of my hands.

“You can come past me you know” she called over her shoulder. I should have been embarrassed but my first thought was how much I liked the deep, rich sound of her voice.

“Sorry” I muttered as I pulled alongside her, “I didn’t want to just barge past.” I tried to smile at her but even to me if felt a bit tight and false as I bustled past and headed out the exit from the station. I needed to hurry as I was running late now and would have to forego my usual coffee order as well. “Just brilliant – well done” I cursed myself as I rushed away.

It was late the following week when our paths crossed again. I had taken to sitting in the carriage one ahead of my usual choice, the one where she had stood the prior week. I chose the seat near to the doors as that was where I had always seen her before. Her restricted mobility on the platform the week before had made it clear why she always elected to stand and lean against the glass rather than take a seat and navigate getting to and from a sitting position. As we approached her station I gazed out the train carriage window, I spotted her in her usual attire with those jeans clinging to her long, slim legs, a white shirt that fit very snugly and showed off her taut physique. _Damn her_. For once her pretty coat was slung over her arm and this allowed me a more unrestricted view than before and I took my time to observe her, hopefully, unnoticed on this occasion.

Her eyes were busy scanning the train again before locking with my wandering gaze momentarily and lining herself up to join the train with the group waiting by the doors closest to my seat. I was in the forward facing seat with her glass partition, as I had come to think of it, just behind me. I heard the beep as the doors slid closed and she had not yet passed me so, she had either chosen to move down the other side of the carriage or she was stood just behind me. I knew I could not turn around without her knowing I was looking for her, she had seen me watching her when she boarded. I shifted in my seat as I tried to work out how to find out for sure, camera on selfie – she would see it, I looked for any reflective surfaces that might give me the angle I needed but there was nothing and people were starting to look at me oddly as I twisted my body and stared at windows or bits of metal on the seats. I settled on my compact, I could easily pull my lipstick from my purse at the same time and pretend to be refreshing it without it looking too weird. I picked both out of my bag and tilted the glass to the right angle. I didn’t need to look for long, just over my shoulder I caught sight of a long white shirt with the top of skinny jeans peeking out from underneath; there was just a piece of Plexiglas between my head and her hips now and I felt a slight contraction of my stomach at the thought. I adjusted the mirror angle to trail it up her body, past her breasts, her long neck, up her jaw, cheekbones, her eyes – looking straight back at me. I snapped the compact closed and swallowed hard, my mouth a little bit dry. We had barely spoken a dozen words and I had no idea why I was behaving this way.

Suddenly I felt movement beside me and I froze as she leaned down from where she stood and spoke softly to me, so close to my ear that I could feel her hair tickle my cheek where it brushed and I sniffed a faint trace of her perfume.

“I like your tactics” she murmured

I frowned at that and turned gasping slightly to find her closer than I have originally imagined. Her brown eyes that I had wished so fervently to see closer were now mere inches from mine and filled with mirth. My eyes travelled to her lips which were upturned in that infuriating smirk of hers, I realised I was just staring at her lips. SHIT! I was still looking at them, mesmerized. I panicked and nervously licked my mouth making her own lips curve up a little more on one side and drawing my focus back to them again. Finally I transferred my eyes to hers and she moved away slightly as if just grasping how close she was to a virtual stranger.

“I’m sorry were you speaking to me?” I finally stumbled out, tried to bluff my way through this.

She smiled then and inclined her head towards my hands “The mirror, a good reconnaissance tool, nice tactic.”

“Ah” Damn, she was very observant. I blushed again and turned back away from her.

“Are you not going to even ask my name?” She leant forwards again back into my personal space, “You have been watching me for weeks after all.”

“Sorry – it’s just a game I play to amuse myself. I imagine what people do for a living and make up a back story for them. You’re a new face among a well worn crowd, so I’ve been trying to work you out.” The words came out in a rush, as I felt my face heat once again.

“How did I fare then?” her eyes were doing that twinkly thing again that made my brain go all foggy

“Hmm” only then did it occur to me that I had been watching her all this time but never really thinking about what she did. “That’s the thing, you see. I can’t work you out, so erm…. sorry. About all the staring I mean, I was trying to get some hint of what you might do and I was making you uncomfortable.”

“Don’t apologise, I’m not uncomfortable at all. I’ve been quite enjoying it if I’m honest” The kindness of her words made me spin more fully to face her and although the cheeky sparkle was still in her eyes, her expression was sincere. “I’ll tell you what, how about whenever we see each other I’ll try to give you a few more clues, help you along. How does that sound?”

Frankly it sounded thrilling. I now had permission to openly stare at her without embarrassment of being caught out but we were also now partaking in some secret unspoken conversation, only known to the two of us. My heart beat hard in my chest; out of nowhere tightness gripped my throat. I coughed lightly in a vain attempt to dislodge it.

“Sounds fun” I squeaked out, clearing my throat and moving my hand to touch my neck. I saw her eyes follow my hand before the announcement on the tannoy informed us we were approaching Holby, reminding us to take all our belongings with us.

She turned to get back into her usual position close to the doors to alight from the train; I felt a slight disappointment that she did not look again before climbing down onto the platform. I thought we had connected earlier but she left as if nothing had happened and nothing had been said.

As I stepped over the gap from the train onto the platform below though I spotted her leaning against a pillar off the main platform, watching as the crowds milled past her. I paused slightly to look at her a little longer, perhaps she felt me looking as she turned her head towards me and winked. I felt the disappointment of earlier ebb away and it must have showed on my face as she smiled at me, not the usual vague curl or arrogant smirk but a genuine smile filled with warmth. It was unexpected and ephemeral like a stormy, grey sky that suddenly parts to allow the tiniest ray of sun to break through a light up a dull city skyscape. I felt illuminated.

Every day I sat in that same carriage now and I always tried to sit in that same seat. I had started to get irrationally angry with anyone who dared to be sat in, what I now thought of as, my seat when I boarded the train. I would mutter and curse at them in my head, convinced that if I did not see her that day it was because I was in the wrong position. One time this happened I must have spoken aloud as the timid looking man sat next to me with the wispy ginger goatee, shifted in his seat and moved to press himself as tight to the window as he could, clearly thinking I was some lunatic who might attack at any moment. Despite all of this and my careful rituals, our paths still did not cross again for some time.

I had almost given up hope. Almost. Sat in my lucky seat one day, I heard someone clearing their throat close beside me and I glanced up, more out of annoyance than expectation of her, but there she was and my heart leapt into my mouth at the sight, a big stupid grin splitting my face.

She didn’t speak but cleared her throat again and made a big show of rolling up her sleeves. I was confused for a second, what was she doing? Then I remembered the game, but what was it she was giving me a clue to? Rolling her sleeves up, perhaps an office worker, she always wore shirts but the jeans didn’t fit into that picture. I looked then at her arms, toned, well defined lines, glancing around at the other women in the carriage for comparison, I could tell she was stronger and fitter than most, her biceps straining her shirt as she had rolled up the cuffs. So she was strong, gym perhaps? If she was a gym bunny though, she would be inside all day and her face was well tanned, the face of someone who worked outdoors. A gardener maybe? They roll their sleeves up. Then again, she would have tanned forearms and while her hands were tanned like her face, her forearms were pale, with just a faint outline about her wrist. I looked closer and it was a watch mark but it was a big watch, masculine in size even, especially for a woman with such slender wrists.

I could see her looking at me closely, my face concentrated on the tan lines, where would she get a tan like that in April in Britain? She must work abroad to get that depth of tanning, holiday rep? She really seemed a bit old for that. My thoughts were broken as she rolled her sleeves back down. I frowned at her slightly but she just nodded towards the window as the blue and white sign for Holby train station rolled into view.

Again she alighted the train first, again as I left I paused to seek out her eyes and there they were trained on me, our tradition, unspoken, unplanned but shared nonetheless. She winked, I smiled, she smiled in return and I turned and walked to the gate without looking back.

This time is was only 2 days before I next saw her and I was better prepared, looking out for her through the window of our carriage; she was standing in the same spot as always, habitual like me. She climbed aboard the train but this time walked past me to the other set of doors that I faced further down the carriage. She stood there the entire journey, she did not turn to look at me, she didn’t move a muscle the whole time and I watched her for every second of the 20 minutes.

I wondered if I had upset her, she was so aloof, her posture ramrod straight, not perched casually against the glass as usually was the case. It occurred to me that maybe her legs or her back were hurting more than normal but she had come in walked in without her usual cane, so I thought that unlikely to be the cause. She only moved when the train approached our destination and then only to pivot sharply on her heels, resuming her stiff stance before alighting when the doors opened as usual.

When I followed her off the train, I looked for her eyes as was my habit now, this time with some trepidation as to what reaction, if any, I might get from her. When our gazes locked together though it was as always, her impassive expression broke, she lifted her eyebrows at me before breaking into a smile and I relaxed, feeling the tension slip from my shoulders with a sigh, it was just part of the game I realised. I grinned broadly back and she quirked a smile in return as I slung my bag over my arm and headed for the concourse.

It was almost a full week before our paths next crossed. We no longer made any pretence of the fact that we sought each other out each morning; she no longer scanned the other carriages as she had in the early days; I sat by the window near the door, waiting for the train to pass the pillar she always stood near. On days like today when we met on the train, our eyes would connect and something unspoken passed between us, a conversation, an understanding, I can’t describe it or define how it happened, it just did. It unnerved me a little, made me feel naked and vulnerable but warm and safe all at once.

Today, she walked past me again, not as before, but looking back; eyes locked to mine, neither of us willing to break our connection as she navigated her way down the gap between the seats and other passengers. Our mutual scrutiny was severed suddenly when she unseeingly knocked into the man overhanging the aisle seat and barged his phone from his hand, sending it scuttling to the floor. Stooping to retrieve it, muttering her profound apologies, I suddenly found myself with an up-close and personal view of her jeans stretched tightly over her arse. It was inappropriate of me, but I could not drag my eyes away, she had the most perfect behind I had ever seen and as I stared, I realised this was not just a passing admiration of beauty, it was visceral desire.

I wanted to grab her, feel her beneath my grip, my fingers digging into the taut muscle; strong and hard then soft and caressing. I felt a deep shudder wrack my body, part shame, part a rush of pure arousal, stronger than anything I have ever felt before. I tried to pull my gaze away then aware that my desire must be evident to everyone on that train, as I moved my eyes, they found only hers, still bent over retrieving the phone but her face tilted to watch me, her eyes almost black and wider than I have ever seen them.

I quickly pressed my lips together biting on my bottom lip and looking down to my hands which were twitching in my lap, blood was pounding in my ears and I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. I clenched my thighs to try and ease the aching I felt but it only served to make me aware of the slickness that had settled there.

She must have returned the phone as I heard her husky tones apologise once more and then she moved away, I watched her from the corner of my eye, refusing to look at her again.

I stayed like that for a while until I chanced a glance upwards; her eyes were trained on me, her face a mask, for once her thoughts obscured. I had expected to see her usual smirking amusement at my obvious discomfort and embarrassment, but there was none, just a softness in her eyes. I returned my focus to my hands, fiddling idly in my lap, I couldn’t look back. I was too afraid she would read my thoughts, sense my attraction to her, see my arousal and run away from me.

It seemed to take ages to reach Holby, after all these weeks of wanting the train to move slower to eke out a few extra minutes of unspoken conversations; today I just needed to get off this train right now.  The air around me felt warm and stale, I couldn’t breathe, everybody, everything was just too close, too hot. I stood suddenly and went to the door behind me, pressing my burning forehead to the cooling glass as I waited to finally reach my stop.

I disembarked quickly, moving to take one of the seats on the other side of the platform and welcoming the slight breeze that blew around me, waiting, catching my breath again, letting the crowds disperse. I felt rather than saw her approach me.

“Here” she said and handed me a chilled bottle of water, “you looked like you needed this.”

“Thanks” was all I could utter as I broke the seal and took a long drink. She sat down next to me and seemed content with the silence as I drank some more and regained my regular breathing pattern.

“Better?” she asked finally

I finally felt able to make eye-contact with her without embarrassment crippling me. Her eyebrows were pinched together, her lips a narrow line of worry. I felt strangely emotional, seeing the evident concern for me that was written across her face.

I cleared my throat “Yes, just suddenly felt a bit dizzy, must have been a bit hot in there today. Thanks for stopping to check on me” I tried a smile, a tiny lift of the corner of my mouth as much as I could muster up; she smiled back, a reflection of mine with a soft light in her eyes. Then her gaze flickered down to my mouth, my lips, just the slightest glance before our eyes met again and her hands clenched in her lap. I stood then, pushing the water back into her hands, our fingers grazing lightly as I did. I startled at her touch, my skin burning where our fingers had pressed together, sending a tingling up my arm and making me physically shiver.

“I’ve got to go – thanks for the water.” I turned and all but ran out of there.

More than 3 weeks passed before we saw each other, I was worried that I had scared her off. The days away from her had also given me space and time to really come to terms with what I was feeling. I was not afraid of it or ashamed of it but for the first time in my life I was attracted to a woman. It was not that I hadn’t always appreciated attractive women previously but I had never before wanted to do anything with that attraction. Never before until that last meeting on the train and now, it was all that I could think about and it was all that I wanted, another chance to see her and find out what might happen.

I had spent a lot of the intervening weeks thinking about her, whether the attraction was mutual, perhaps she was not interested in women that way, but as I relived each of our interactions, the heated glances, the physical closeness, it left me no doubt. She was interested in me and I wanted her.

The stumbling block now was that she was gone, weeks and weeks of nothing. At last I was no longer unsure and now I was desperate to see her; she had vanished. Every day that I passed her stop and saw the space where she should have been standing, beside that same pillar, brought a weight of crushing disappointment to my chest. Every head of blonde hair that I caught sight of I imagined to be her, but it wasn’t; until one day, it was.

It was a Thursday morning, clear and bright, the train quieter than usual. As we approached her stop, I glanced up as did every morning, seeing it empty of her, as always and returned to my book. But there at the back of the platform were blonde curls, a messy fringe, dark eyes and sinfully long legs. My expectant gaze met her doe-like expression, I felt my heart leap into my mouth but she was not moving towards the train. She just looked at me and lifted her right hand to her head, extending two fingers to touch her brow briefly before tugging them away in a half salute. Was she just saying goodbye, I felt sorrow lurch in my gut and was about to wave a farewell when she suddenly shot forward, leaping through the closing doors and into my carriage. I expected her to remain at the doorway as she always did but to my surprise she slid into the seat directly opposite mine. I felt our knees brush as the train pulled out of the station.

She perched forward resting her forearms on the tops of her thighs and looked at me through her fringe. How I longed to reach forward clasp her hands in mine, tuck the loose tendrils of hair behind her ears and have an unencumbered view of her deep brown eyes that were suddenly so close to me.

“Long time no see” my voice hoarse with emotion.

“Yes, sorry about that, I have no need to come this way anymore these days.” I cocked my head back in surprise. “I couldn’t leave our game unfinished, I do hate unfinished business” she continued, answering my unspoken question. She pinched her lips together and narrowed her eyes at me, “Have you worked it out yet?”

I had spent so long over the past few weeks without her analysing and reanalysing every look, every touch, every spoken and unspoken word we exchanged throughout our time together that they all came flooding into my brain unbidden and suddenly it was clear, I knew the answer, I had everything I needed.

“Armed forces, stationed in the Middle East I would guess from the fading tan.” I paused

“Interesting assessment, carry on then.” she instructed

“I would say officer based on age and your bearing, very military.” I smirked as she lifted her eyebrows in slight surprise before becoming impassive again. “Captain or Major if I had to hazard a guess. More likely to be Army or Navy than RAF. Navy possibly from how comfortable you are standing very still on moving vehicles, but I’m going to plump for Army and assume your injury is from a combatant incident.” Her jaw tensed when I spoke of this and I instinctively reached forward and stroked her arm. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

She relaxed again at my words or touch, I’m not sure which. “Anything else?” she asked.

“Your frequency of travel on the train and recent change in requirement to travel, coupled with the significant improvement in your mobility (just look at how you jumped onto the train earlier) would suggest regular physical therapy appointments, no longer required, probably at Holby City Hospital.”

She leaned back in her chair and I suddenly felt bereft of her closeness. She regarded me through those narrowed eyes before raising her hands and applauding me softly, her face relaxing into a grin.

“Excellent work, I didn’t think you would be so comprehensive and unnervingly accurate.”

I was trying to think of a witty response to this when the train started to slow and our fellow passengers began to disembark.

“Shall we?” she stood and graciously allowed me to walk ahead of her. I felt awkward now, I wanted her to stay and talk to me for longer but our game was over, and her reasons to catch the train were gone.

“Well it’s been fun” she extended her hand and I grasped it, desperate for any last contact, relishing the pulse of fire that lit up my veins where our skin met. I suddenly had an idea, one last faint ray of hope.

“What did I win?” It was a bold move for me, a lure floating there on the surface – question is would she bite?

“Dinner?” My heart soared, tempered only by the wavering of her voice, her usual confidence replaced by nervousness. I could not tease her when confronted with a rare glimpse of her vulnerable side and my face broke into a wide smile.

“Tonight?” I countered.

“Tonight?” I countered.

Her eyebrows raised; “Impatient are we?” She smirked at me.

“I think we have waited long enough, don’t you?” I winked and went to walk away from her.

“Wait” she called after me, “Don’t you need to know my name?”

“Major Berenice Wolfe, Royal Army Medical Corps, if I’m not mistaken” I replied coolly over my shoulder. I stopped and turned as she gaped after me.

“What?... How did you?”

“Serena Campbell” I called back to her,” Holby City Hospital, AAU ward lead and Deputy CEO. No-one as famous as Britain’s best front line trauma surgeon gets admitted to my hospital without me knowing all about it.” I laughed at her stunned face as I turned to head back to the gate.

Suddenly hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me back around my face still smiling with laughter.

“Why you little cheater!” The slight reprimand in her words only fuelled my laughter further. I was still laughing when she silenced me, pressing her mouth to mine. Her kiss was fierce at first, her way of regaining the upper-hand, but as I relaxed against her mouth giving myself over to her control, enjoying the warmth of her lips, so her kiss became soft and tender. Her hand grasped the nape of my neck, her fingers tangling in my hair pulling me tighter against her, my arms circled her waist and she pressed her length against mine. Her lips moved lightly against my mouth, she suckled my bottom lip, pulling it gently between her own and massaged it softly. I opened my mouth to pull her top lip in and I felt a gentle swipe of her tongue, asking permission. I sighed, granting her access as she slipped her tongue between my parted lips and slid it against the tip of mine. The kiss seemed to never end as we stood locked together on an empty platform, but eventually I had to pull away, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, her lips still chasing mine as I drew back.

Her eyes opened and our broad smiles echoed each other. “Sorry” she said breathlessly. “I couldn’t wait any longer.” I just smiled at her and standing in our loose embrace, squeezed her waist a bit tighter against me. “You’ll be really late for work if you carry on like that, Deputy CEO or not.” She gently teased.

“Doubtful” I replied. She tilted her head to one side, silently asking me to explain. “I’m not working this week.” I watched the confusion wash over her face, enjoying observing her emotions at such close quarters. Lifting my hand from around her waist, I cupped it to her face and grazed my thumb along her cheekbone. “I didn’t want to take the risk that I might miss you”. I felt her smile under the palm that rested on her cheek and I continued to stroke her face before sliding my hand around to the back of her neck.

“Seeing as neither of us has anywhere urgent to be…” I pulled her face back towards me and she wrapped her arms tightly around my waist, one hand sliding under my shirt and I felt her caress my hypersensitive skin, goose bumps prickling where she touched. Our lips met again and I moulded my body to hers, pressing tightly against her right there on Platform 4 of Holby Station.

 


End file.
